


Playing With Fire

by AirgiodSLV



Series: Undone [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-10
Updated: 2004-04-10
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:26:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: “Stay still,” Elijah warns, and Dom bites back the ‘not like I have a choice’, because this is his choice, really, even if he is tied, wrists and ankles, to the spindly legs of a piano bench.





	Playing With Fire

**Author's Note:**

> For [](https://sophrosyne31.livejournal.com/profile)[sophrosyne31](https://sophrosyne31.livejournal.com/), who wouldn’t let me let this go. (This is the first part of your belated birthday present, love.) Many thanks to [](https://impasto.livejournal.com/profile)[impasto](https://impasto.livejournal.com/) for editing.
> 
> Content/Warnings: bdsm, s/D. Please see title.  
> 

“Stay still,” Elijah warns, and Dom bites back the ‘not like I have a choice’, because this is his choice, really, even if he is tied, wrists and ankles, to the spindly legs of a piano bench. And also because he has to start concentrating on Elijah, on the slight weight that Elijah places on his back, and just thinking about what’s precariously balanced on his spine makes Dom start to sweat.

They’d wanted to do this in bed, but the mattress wasn’t steady enough, and it really wasn’t safe, and there had been no easy way to attach restraints; and Elijah and Dom both agreed that Dom needed them for this, or he could end up severely hurting himself. So the piano bench it is, cool wood slowly warming against Dom’s stomach and chest, taking his weight; which is a relief, because if he didn’t have anything supporting him he would be shaking, already, even though Elijah technically hasn’t done anything yet.

 

 

 _‘White is coolest,’ Elijah had explained, perched over Dom’s thighs, and tilted the burning candle so that a trickle of wax splattered onto the skin of Elijah’s bare arm. Elijah hadn’t flinched, and neither had Dom, had just arched against the wrist cuffs binding him to the headboard in an attempt to assuage the sudden_ need _at the sight of Elijah studying the burn on his own arm, humming thoughtfully and seemingly oblivious to Dom’s writhing. ‘Be patient,’ Elijah had said a moment later. ‘I want to test it more first.’_

 

 

“Easy,” Elijah murmurs from behind Dom, stroking his flanks and occasionally nudging the candle – weight and _presence_ , but not heat, not yet – into a more stable position. “That’s it,” he praises softly, breath warm on the back of Dom’s thighs, his buttocks, and then the stroking fingers curve around to hold his hips, and Dom inhales sharply at the first wet trace of Elijah’s slippery tongue.

Dom is dizzy, weak with nervousness and anticipation, struggling to focus on the weight of the candle and not the wet heat lapping roughly at the curve on the underside of his buttock, the fingers teasing between his cheeks, stroking so lightly that he can barely feel it; he can only strain after the ghost-touches and hope that Elijah’s tongue soon migrates to where Dom knows it will eventually end up.

 

 

_They had watched the candle during dinner, which was a much more subdued affair than usual, Dom’s hands shaking slightly, eyes glued to the center of the table where the flame flickered lazily, Elijah watching his reaction with ill-concealed fascination. Eventually the wax melted through on one side, released from its cradle in the center, and there was a quick-slip fall down the side onto the saucer beneath, a tiny pool that hardened and solidified within seconds. Dom had swallowed and tried not to think about scorch-marks._

_‘We don’t have to do this, Dom,’ Elijah had pointed out, tapping his fork thoughtfully against the tabletop. ‘It’s not like there aren’t other things to explore.’_

_‘I want to do this,’ Dom had replied automatically, and refused to talk about it further, even when Elijah’s hands on his skin later that night had begged for answers. And he did want it. They both did. Dom knew better than to believe Elijah when he tried to hide the excited glint in his eyes and said, ‘it doesn’t matter, we don’t have to, it’s up to you.’ They both wanted this._

 

 

The first burn comes later than Dom anticipates, and it takes him by surprise even though he’s been waiting for it, jerking him back a little against the restraints. “Careful,” Elijah murmurs, feather-brush of lips over sensitive skin as his hands steady the candle, and Dom thinks _it’s not my fault_ but doesn’t say it, tries instead to breathe and relax, and not visualize the candle slowly melting away, rivulets of molten wax spilling over the side and flooding his skin.

When Elijah’s tongue scrapes roughly over his perineum Dom stops breathing again, but is able to rise above the light-headedness and concentrate on remaining still, on not tipping the delicate balance of the candle on his naked back. Elijah suckles his balls and Dom groans, sweat breaking out on his forehead and the backs of his arms, soaking the creases in the pits of his knees. “Relax,” Elijah whispers, and then his tongue circle-stabs, and Dom has to bite his own tongue to keep from crying out.

 

 

_‘How do you want this, Dom?’ Elijah had asked, rocking forward and pushing Dom, pushing into Dom, making Dom’s elbows scrape across the sheets; dry friction burn. ‘Where would you want to put it?’_

_Dom had pushed back, had answered with his body ‘whatever you want’ and taken Elijah in deeper, distracted him with the clench of muscles and desperate grinding rotation of hips until Elijah had forgotten the question and given in, fucked Dom until they both collapsed._

_It was Dom’s answer to a lot of questions._

 

 

Dom is more than ready by the time Elijah’s tongue finally dips inside, opens him up and slicks him with saliva, and then starts tongue-fucking him with a thoroughness and single-minded attention he usually reserves for film shoots and video games. Dom whimpers, and lasts for a few seconds before it’s just not _enough_ anymore, and his body pushes backwards even though his mind is yelling for him to stay still, and he can’t stop the movement in time to prevent the sudden startle-burn on his skin.

It’s more than a drop this time, much more, and Dom hisses in pain as Elijah immediately stops what he’s doing and steadies the candle, frames the burn with his hands and drops open-mouthed wet kisses on the skin surrounding it. “Are you okay?” Elijah asks after he’s soothed the worst of the pain away, and Dom nods with clenched teeth and concentrates, blocks everything out except for the command to hold still and the awareness of the itchy-hot weight pressing against his spine.

 

 

_‘Want me to fuck you first?’ Elijah had asked, sucking and swirling his tongue around Dom’s nipples as they lounged half-naked on the sofa, Dom watching television and curling his fingers into the upholstery every time Elijah got a little rough and applied teeth. ‘During?’_

_‘After,’ Dom had answered, reaching down to comb his fingers through Elijah’s hair; feel the threads part and fall softly through his fingertips. ‘Want you to fuck me after. Hard,’ he adds, and feels Elijah’s response in the sudden suction and scrape of incisors against over-sensitized flesh._

_‘After,’ Elijah had echoed, and Dom had arched to give him more room, smiled but didn’t take his eyes away from the glowing screen. It drove Elijah crazy when Dom ignored him; and besides, this was a good program._

 

 

Dom doesn’t even register the loss of Elijah when it happens; he’s hyper-focused on staying in control, not moving, not moving, remaining on top of the pain, which itches until he feels he’ll wriggle out of his own skin to avoid it, but he can’t, can’t move…

“Dom,” Elijah says, and Dom blinks slowly, realizing that Elijah has undone the knots in what must be record time, turned him over and is shaking him, saying his name over and over with a hint of fear in his eyes that he’s obviously hoping Dom won’t see.

“What?” Dom asks, and the candle must be gone, because he’s sitting now, but he can still feel the place it rested on his back, and the pull of dried wax against his abused skin.

“You went away,” Elijah answers, and there’s enough relief in his voice to make Dom a bit worried, especially when Elijah pulls Dom into a tight hug and refuses to let him go for so long that Dom suspects he’s trying to pull himself back together and failing. Elijah is still hard, although Dom realizes in surprise that he himself _isn’t_ , but he knows that he hasn’t come because he would have noticed that. Elijah is ignoring that, though, squeezing and breathing hard and trembling, and Dom would have known something had gone wrong even without the blank spot in his memory just from the pressure of Elijah’s embrace, the coiled tension beneath his skin.

“I’m fine,” he says reflexively, at the same time that Elijah says, “Never again,” and then they’re kissing, hard and out-of-control, and Dom’s hands find purchase on Elijah’s body and cling, sweat cementing their bodies as Elijah pulls Dom onto his knees, chests pressed together and shoulders rubbing every time they shift angles.

Dom forgets the burn the moment Elijah’s lips touch his.

 

 

_‘You can lose yourself in it, you know,’ Elijah had said, curled around Dom’s spent body and flexing his fingers gently, absently, in Dom’s hair against his scalp. ‘I worry sometimes.’_

‘Don’t,’ Dom had answered sleepily, unable to find the energy to force his eyes open, even though he thought Elijah could use the reassurance. Elijah always got quiet and still after they pushed further; introspective, retreating to a place where Dom couldn’t follow him.

‘I love you,’ Elijah had whispered against Dom’s throat, warm wet breath, and Dom had murmured some form of agreement before saying, ‘I thought we weren’t supposed to do that.’

‘Do what?’ Elijah had asked, and Dom had tried to collect his scattered thoughts for long enough to form a coherent sentence, beating back sleep with black-feathered wings.

‘You know. The mushy stuff. The vanilla stuff.’

Elijah’s lips were on his before he registered that Elijah had moved, Elijah’s tongue forcing its way in between his pliant and unresisting lips. ‘Don’t ever say that,’ he had whispered, breathing hard, fingers splaying against Dom’s cheeks and just under his closed eyes. ‘Don’t.’

‘All right,’ Dom had replied agreeably, surprised, when his tongue was no longer tingling and Elijah was again curled beside him. ‘Mushy and vanilla it is, then.’

‘I love you,’ Elijah had whispered again, fiercely, and Dom fell asleep before he had a chance to answer.

He hoped that Elijah already knew the answer anyway.


End file.
